Instinct
by Rissa12981192
Summary: How can so much innocence be brought from so much evil? He will never belong in this town. He's to good and pure. No one will tarnish that. Not even me. Drabble.
1. Innocent

**Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Twilight, all credit goes to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own the plot of this fanfiction. Enjoy.**

SUMMARY: How can so much innocent be brought from so much evil? He will never belong to th I town. He's to good and pure. No one will tarnish that. Not even me. Drabble.

He didn't belong here. He knows it. I know it. Everyone knows it. And yet, here he is. Standing there surrounded by smoke, loud music and sweaty, drunk teens. He looks so out of place. Surrounded by the evils of Hell, all with the power to corrupt and taint him.

From where I stand, I can see his shaking hands and anxiety filled eyes. I could practically hear his heart beating against his chest, as if begging to be released from it's caged prison. He looks so scared and nervous, like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

I don't know how long I watched him, but I do know that it's hard to look away. He's mesmerizing. With his reddish-brown hair, innocent emerald green eyes; he looked like an angle. So sweet, so innocent. Just trying to fit in. But he doesn't. Trying but failing. He's not supposed to be here. Doesn't he know he's better than this? Better than anybody and everybody in this room.

This feeling builds in my chest. The same feeling I get every time I'm near him. The need to protect him from everything that plagues him, no matter the magnitude. On the outside you wouldn't think he needed any protection, hell maybe he doesn't. His 6"4, broad shouldered stature is quite intimidating, but his eyes are still the same innocent emerald greens.

So innocent, yet so very broken. I think it's too late. Too late to protect him. He's already broken. Maybe the need isn't to protect him, but to fix him. Be there for him to pick up his shattered pieces. But I can't. Not me. He needs someone like him. Innocent. Someone who hasn't already been tainted by this world. I'm just as broken, if not more broken than him. To broke to fix anything, much less him.

He doesn't belong. Not here. Not at this party. Not in this town. And especially not with me. Never with me.

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**P.S. No beta and first story.**


	2. Wow

**Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Twilight, that belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own this plot. So enjoy.**

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><p>The rest of my night is spent watching him. He just stands there in the corner, not even trying to engage with those around him. People come up to him; guys offering weed or booze and girls flirt, rubbing their scarsely clad bodies against him. I wanted to kill them, girls and guys alike. Thery're trying to corrupt him. Taint him with their wild ways. I hated them. Can't they see it. He is so pure and naive. Too naive. So easy to take advantage of.<p>

My feet are walking across the room without me commanding them. I'm walking toward him with all the confidence of the world, even though I have no clue what I am doing.

I'm ten feet away now. Five. Two.

_Wow._

He's so beautiful.

His legs, so long and powerful looking, like he runs miles everyday. His arms, long like his legs, are coverded in lean muscle. Attached to those powerful arms are the most lovley hands I have ever had the honor to see. Large plams. Long fingers. His hands could warp around my waist twice. Up his arms are broad sholders, so strong but are slumped inwarded like they hold the entire earth. A long slender neck, that is begging to be nibbled on is connected to a sharp, square jaw. A jaw that could cut glass. High, promonite cheek bones, next to a beautifully but slightly crooked nose. Moving up his face leads me to gaze into his eyes. Eyes that are framed by long, georgeous, ebony eyelashes. Eyes that are a brillant emerald green, a color that belongs on the finest piece of jewlery.

_Wow_

I then realize I have yet to say something. I've been gawking at him for what seems like an eternity. I should say something, anything. But I can't. I'm mesmerized by his perfect features. Also, I can't help but notice the pain that swims in his heartbreakingly beautiful green eyes. So much pain it makes me to touch him. To comfort him. To reach out and embrace him into a hug. A hug that I hope will right all his problems.

I look away. I have to. It is the only way I can come up with something rational to say. I take in a deep breath and try to steady my raceing heartbeat, then I look back at him. And again I am lost in a field of green. _Wow._

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	3. Holy Shit

**Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Twilight, that belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own this plot. So enjoy.**

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><p>Whats happening to me? How is he doing this to me? Rendering me speechless this way. Which is quite shocking, considering I am never speechless. This isn't like me. I don't like the person he has turned me into, even without knowing so. Where has the crude, crass, foul mouthed girl gone? The one that dosen't take shit from <em>anyone<em>? Instead, she is replace with this speechless, dazzled, and some what insecure child.

Closing my eyes, I take three deep breaths.

_One._

_ Two._

_ Three. _

I open my mouth.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

What the fuck?_ 'Do you want to get out of here?' _What's wrong with me?

_ He doesn't even know you. _I think to myself._ Plus if he did, he would also know of your reputation. That alone should send him running for the hills. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ At this point, I am almost smacking my head along with my thoughts.

"Um... Yes, please."

I look up and stared at him until I realized he has anwered me.

He wanted to go somewhere.

"Oh, okay. Well..." My word trailed off.

_Oh shit. I didn't think this through. Where could I take him?_

With a place in mind, I reach out my hand about to grab his, but I stop myself. Realizing I don't really know him well enough to just touch him and with my previous thoughts about his innocent beauty, who knew where that one touch could lead. I leave my hand stetched out, palm faced upward in front of me.

He looks down at my hand. Obviously running through the pros and cons of my offer in his mind. Then after what seemed like forever, he finally reached out to grab hold of it. His finger touch my fingers, tentatively at first, then he places his whole hand in mine.

_ Holy Shit._

Fireworks. Sparkes. Fires a blazin'. Its whatever you want to call the heat that passes between us. It was so intense, so foreign, but oh so good.

I've never felt like this before. This feeling is better than anything I have ever expereienced. Better than getting drunk or high. Better than feeling the powerful beast that is my motorcycle between my thighs. Better than having that sense of pleasurable pain while getting a tattoo. Hell its even better than_sex._

Again I repeat. Holy Shit.

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	4. Okay Then

**Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Twilight, that belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own this plot. So enjoy.**

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><p>We're walking now. Well I'm walking, and he's behind me allowing me to drag him forward. I notice this small action. He has no idea where I'm taking him, and yet he does not resist me. He somewhat trust me. Even if it is just a little, its too much. He shouldn't trust me at all.<p>

We weave through the sweaty mass of dancing bodies toward the patio doors. Once we have reached them, I slid them open and move to the side to allow him to walk ahead of me. He looks down at me for a couple of seconds, then continues walking.I step out behind him and close the door.

Its cold out tonight, especially since all I'm wearing is a band t-shirt that displays my tattooed covered arms perfectly and a pair of skinny jeans with crater sized holes in them from being worn too much. I can feel goose bumps begin to raise on my skin. Moving my hands up and down my arms trying to create some kind of heat, I glance over to him.

He looks so much more angelic in the moonlight than in that poorly lit living room. The moonlight bounces of his head, causing the red highlights in his hair to stand out more. Also, the light sends shadows from his long eyelashes on to his cheeks, adding to his already painful beauty.

The sound of a throat clearing knocks me out of my dazed state. He turns toward me but keeps his head stilted to the ground.

"T-Thank you." He stampers out.

I look up, not only because he actually said something, but also at the fact that his voice sounded like a river of molten chocolate running through my ears. It was easier to hear out in the quiet, with only the rush of leaves and crickets chirping. Gazing at his face, I noticed an emotion run across it. He looked so relieved.

"Its not a problem. You looked like you needed to get out of there." I pointed to the house behind us.

"Yeah, thats not really my type of scene." He stated so quietly that I barely heard him.

"Then why are you hear?" The words flew out of my mouth and I instantly wish I could pull them back in. They sounded harsh. Too harsh apparently because after saying this, he flinched away from me. He looked to my face and must have saw my not so hidden anger, then he turns away from me. Leaving me to face his back.

Fuck.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but I noticed his sholder were shaking.

Double Fuck.

Cautiously I stepped forward. Once I was directly behind him, I place a shaky hand on his equally shaky sholder.

I feel like a piece of shit. I really didn't intend on sounding so harsh. Its just, I wanted to know why he would show up here if he knows its not the right place for him.

He tensed when he felt my hand touch him. Keeping it there, I waited for him to turn around. We stood like that for a while. His back to me, my hand on his sholder. Then almost too quick for my eyes to catch, he is turned around and in front off me. I can feel his minty breath run across my face. Arms are coiled around my waist. A head is place in the junction of my neck and sholder. I feel wetness seep through my shirt.

Well okay then.

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	5. Scars

**Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of Twilight, that belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do however own this plot. So enjoy.**

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><p>I have no clue as to what to do. Normaly if I saw a guy cry, I'd tell him to man up and to stop acting like a pussy. But like always, he makes me do the opposite of what I'm used to.<p>

Hesitantly, I respond to his hug by wrapping my arms around him as well. It fells so good. Even in his vaulnerable state, he makes me feel safe. But I'm also confused. If I was the one to make him cry, why would he seek comfort in me?

For what seems like hours we stand there, wrapped in each others embrace. The world around us fades. All I can hear are his choppy breaths and quiet sniffs. To try and comfort him, my hands move up and down his back. The soft cotton of his shirt running under my finger tips. I continue this soothing motion for a while. Then unonscious of my actions, my hands work their way under the back of his blue t-shirt.

And I feel them.

Their littered all around his back, some smaller and some larger. Raised about his skin. I fell every bump, and I know instintly what they are. It tears at my soul.

Scars. Over at least twenty of them.

I'm snapped back from my discovery by him jerking himself away from me. He does it so fast that my arms are still raised in the air, but are empty. I'm so surprised, I don't even notices he's running, and almost immediately so am I. His legs are longer than mine, so he is a good couple of feet ahead of me.

Knowing I will not be able to catch up to him, I open my mouth to scream his name. Only I can't, my mind goes blank. It was then I realized I don't even know his name. How? I have no clue. I have spent my whole high school career obsessing over him. I studied him like he was something to learn in school, and I don't even know his name.

"Hey!" I screamed. "Hey, stop!"

Only he doesn't, if anything he begins to run faster.

"Please. Will you stop running, please?" I'm not screaming anymore. I'm quietly begging. I try to think of something I could say that would get him to stop running.

"Your name!" I see he slows down. "At least ...At least tell me your name!" I basically demand from him. This has been an extremly weird night, and the connection I feel to him is starting to freak me out, but I'll be damned if I don't at least get his name.

He stops running, so I take this as an invitation to jog to him. When I am again facing his back, he speaks.

"Edward." It was a whisper.

"Edward." I repeated his name, whispering it almost lovingly.

"Okay Edward, can you turn around please?" He does. "I-I'm sorry about touching you. Well not really, I liked touching you." Fuck, that sounded super creepy. He looks at me funny, so I began to back pedal. "Not like that! God, I would never touch you like that!" I screamed. After the words left my mouth, his entire body deflates. I clearly said something worng.

"How about this? We forget what just happened. I can still take you to where I was before, or if I have totally creeped you out, we can head back inside." I really hope he chooses the former option. I can't help but want to spend more time with him.

"Where would you take me?"

"Um... A few hundred yards into the forest there is a meadow. Sometimes I go there to get away from life." Telling him about my secret sanctuary makes me a little nervous. Ever since I was little that meadow has been my way of escaping my fucked up life. It was my safe haven; I have never shared it with anyone.

"Its dark." He points out.

"Yeah. Yeah it is, so?" I ask, confused by his obvious statement.

"How-How will you know where your going? How will you know where your taking me?"

"I just will. Just trust me, Okay?"

"I do."

And so we set off toward my wonderland.

**Thank you for reading. If you would be as kind to review and to follow my story, a big thanks will be sent your way.**


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